Where Are the HBCUs in the NBA?

I recently learned a statistic that made me stop and think.
Today, there are reportedly no active NBA players who graduated from a Historically Black College or University (HBCU).
Let that sink in.
Not one.
The last HBCU player drafted into the NBA was Norfolk State University’s Kyle O’Quinn in 2012. For years, Tennessee State University’s Robert Covington stood as the NBA’s lone active HBCU graduate. Recent reports suggest that there are currently no HBCU graduates on active NBA rosters.
The question is not whether HBCUs can produce NBA talent.
History has already answered that.
The real question is: What has changed?
To understand why this matters, we must first understand why HBCUs exist.
Historically Black Colleges and Universities were created because Black students were denied access to higher education. They opened doors when others closed them. They educated generations of Black doctors, lawyers, teachers, scientists, engineers, ministers, entrepreneurs, elected officials, artists, and community leaders.
They were founded out of necessity, but they flourished because of excellence.
As a proud graduate of Howard University, I know firsthand that HBCUs are more than institutions. They are communities. They are incubators of talent, leadership, culture, and possibility.
That is why Howard University’s appearance in the 2026 NCAA Men’s Basketball Tournament mattered. It was more than a basketball story. It was a reminder that HBCUs belong on the national stage.
The challenge before us is ensuring that moments become movements.
We have already seen what can happen when attention is intentionally directed toward HBCUs.
When Deion “Coach Prime” Sanders accepted the head coaching position at Jackson State University, he changed the conversation around HBCU athletics. National media showed up. Top recruits paid attention. Corporate sponsors took notice. Alumni were energized. People who had never attended an HBCU game suddenly found themselves watching Jackson State football.
Coach Prime eventually moved on but before he left, he taught us something important:
HBCUs never lacked excellence.
They often lacked exposure.
His time at Jackson State demonstrated what is possible when talent, visibility, investment, and belief converge around HBCU institutions.
The lesson should not end when the coach leaves.
The lesson should continue when the cameras leave.
That brings me to another question.
What would happen if more elite Black athletes seriously considered HBCUs?
What would happen if even a small percentage of five-star recruits chose HBCUs?
What would happen to television contracts, sponsorships, facilities, alumni engagement, and institutional wealth?
What would happen if our most talented scholar-athletes viewed HBCUs not as a backup plan, but as a first choice?

The emergence of NIL (Name, Image, and Likeness) opportunities has created a new reality in college athletics. Communities now have more influence than ever before in helping institutions attract and retain top talent.
If collective economics is truly a strategy for empowerment, NIL may be one of the greatest opportunities of our generation.
This summer, I plan to read Collective Courage by Jessica Gordon Nembhard, a book that explores how Black communities historically built strength through cooperation, collective economics, and intentional investment in one another.
The premise is both simple and profound:
Communities thrive when they invest collectively in institutions that invest in them.
Imagine if we applied that thinking to HBCUs.
What if alumni increased their giving?
What if corporations expanded sponsorships?
What if former professional athletes invested in facilities and scholarships?
What if families intentionally included HBCUs in every college search?
What if we purchased tickets, attended games, supported athletic programs, and elevated HBCU success stories with the same enthusiasm we reserve for larger institutions?
Perhaps the issue is not that HBCUs lack the ability to nurture talent.
Perhaps the issue is that we have not fully embraced the power of collective investment.
And support does not end at graduation.
Last October, I attended the inaugural Las Vegas HBCU Classic featuring Jackson State University and Grambling State University.
Yes, there was football.
But there was also something much bigger.
There were alumni reconnecting decades after graduation. There were marching bands that brought the crowd to its feet. There were Divine Nine members proudly representing their organizations. As a proud member of Delta Sigma Theta Sorority, Incorporated, I smiled watching the sea of Black excellence, service, scholarship, and fellowship represented throughout the weekend.
There were families introducing children to HBCU culture for the first time.
There was joy.
There was pride.
There was community.
And there was a reminder that supporting HBCUs does not end when we receive our degrees.
In fact, some of our most important work begins afterward.
Support looks like attending a Classic.
Support looks like buying a ticket.
Support looks like making a donation.
Support looks like mentoring a student.
Support looks like encouraging a young person to visit an HBCU campus.
Support looks like sharing HBCU success stories.
Support looks like showing up.
As I get older, I have come to appreciate that HBCUs are not simply places we attended.
They are communities we belong to.
And communities remain strong when people continue to invest in them.
So here’s my challenge.
Find an HBCU Classic this year.
Attend a game.
Visit a campus.
Support an athletic program.
Purchase alumni merchandise.
Make a contribution—large or small.
#buyblack
Bring someone who has never experienced an HBCU before.
And if you are a parent, educator, coach, counselor, mentor, auntie, uncle, grandparent, or community leader, make sure HBCUs are part of the college conversation.
Not as an alternative.
Not as a backup plan.
As a first-rate option worthy of consideration.
Because there is no environment quite like an HBCU.
There is no substitute for walking across a campus where your identity is affirmed rather than explained.
There is no substitute for professors who know your name, challenge you, nurture you, and care deeply about your success.
There is no substitute for being surrounded by excellence that looks like you.
That is not nostalgia.
That is the enduring purpose and power of HBCUs.
The absence of HBCU graduates on NBA rosters should not simply make us sad.
It should make us think.
It should make us act.
And it should make us imagine what is possible if we once again commit our talent, our attention, and our resources to the institutions that have carried our communities for generations.
If Coach Prime showed us what attention can do for HBCUs, what might happen if millions of alumni, supporters, scholar-athletes, families, and friends sustained that attention long after the cameras leave?
I’d love to hear your thoughts.
How can we encourage more scholar-athletes to consider HBCUs?
What role should alumni, educators, families, corporations, and community leaders play?
And what commitment are you willing to make to support an HBCU in the coming year?
Leave a comment and join the conversation.